Dragon Riders of Craig
by Debeo Possum Volo
Summary: When a girl is kidnapped by a dragon and brought away from her village she starts off on an adventure to save her clan and prove she doesn't need to mary to be a success. Things get more complicated when she learns that peace with dragons is an option by way of a mysterious boy, his sister and their legendary parents.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"NO" I cried, running to intercept the blade swung at the dragon's neck. The dragon was so beautiful and so noble; I knew I couldn't let it die. I tackled the man who swung the blade, it was Geddard I noticed with distaste. Geddard was brutish and powerful like his sword. He wasn't exactly ugly but he wasn't nice to look at either.

Geddard fell to the ground smacking his head on a rock. He cursed and threw me off him.

"What are you doing?" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. I flinched and stepped back. I stammered lost for words. I couldn't exactly say I was trying to save a dragons life-the village would have me tried for siding with the enemy!

"Listen here," Geddard grabbed my arm as I struggled to break his grip "I don't care who you are, the next time you try to sabotage my record I will kill you!"

"How dare you!" I said wrenching my arm free. I was scared inside but I tried to conceal it. Geddard was notorious for killing the most dragons in Crag. Every hide he hung in his house added another dragon's life to his "record" he was something of a hero in Crag. He was also rumored to have killed his wife of two weeks-although there was no proof. "You touch me and my Father; The Chief will hang your hide up with all your dragon skins!"

"Brave words Little Princess-and useless when your blood is on my sword."

"You touch me and it'll be your blood running down your sword! Think about that!" Geddard sneered but backed down turning away from me and lumbering back into the fray caused by the onslaught of dragons. I let out a deep breath relieved to have gotten away unharmed. I don't quite know what had caused me to attack Geddard but looking at the dragons being shot stabbed and killed I felt a profound sense of wrong. Dragons were so beautiful and so amazing I wished there was an alternative to killing them when they attacked our village.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

This is Crag. It is located in the middle of nowhere and is easily overlooked. Crag's redeeming features include eternities of alternating fog and dust, a strategic location under two cliffs prone to cave ins- a handy quality in case of attack-if anyone cared enough to find us. Crag has no special items or skills and traders rarely come. We also have a pest problem. Where most sub par settlement are plagued by mosquitoes or wild beasts we have dragons! Instead of moving like any normal tribe my father decided to stick around to watch us slowly get burned or die terrible deaths.

Yes, no one could deny my father was pigheaded and probably dooming us all by sticking around but at least we never got bored. My father's stubbornness is legendary, or at least it is to us Crag Landers. As a product of our dragon doomed isolation we have very little knowledge of the legends of other tribes. I have doubt as to whether there is a more stubborn or stupid person out there but there is a possibility.

Another downside to Crag are the sun spots. The cliffs make parts of Crag shady, but sometimes sun will angle in, in a certain way resulting in rays of sun appearing out of nowhere to burn our eyes out. The ray currently shining in my eyes was a prime example of that. Muttering darkly I shielded my eyes from the onslaught of sun and slid out of bed. I moved sluggishly towards the main area of my house. Upon arrival I saw my mother talking to my father. My father had a size to match his stubbornness. He had had his hand bitten off by a dragon. In attempt to compensate for that he commissioned a mechanical hand be built for him. He loved it at first but then he realized it had seven fingers and that the thumb was on backward. Now he tolerated it-after all it was fused to his arm. My mother was meek and was generally hunched over some form of clothing. People like to tell me I have my father's spirit and my mother's beauty. I haven't decided if that is meant as an insult yet.

"Good Morning" says my father. Its not. Its an awful morning full of fog and blinding sun. I grunt.

"Ladies don't grunt." Says my mother. Her typical response to anyone who grunts or snorts in her proximity even if that person happens to be male. I've learned arguing is pointless and a waste of time. I attempt to start a conversation, an action that goes against my personality.

"What are you sewing?" I ask although I couldn't care less.

"Your wedding dress." Replies my mother shortly. I lied I could care a LOT more.

"My WHAT?" I ask spitting out a mouthful of dark hair.

"Bridal Garment" says my mother returning to her stitching.

"I thought I was getting married to some prince in Narm!" I say. "Three years from now! You told me not to think about it for a while and now you're sewing my dress?"

"Change of plan," says my father. "He died."

"What about strengthening ties with allies? Isn't it important to be on good terms with the only tribe within a months travel?" They'd just convinced me that that prince was good! I didn't want to go through the whole process again!

"Lana married his older brother. The ties are good enough." My older sister pride of the tribe. The perfect woman and my only sibling so I was expected to be like her or better.

"Why do I have to get married then?" in my opinion that was a perfectly reasonable question but apparently it was stupid judging by the exasperated look on my mothers face.

"A non married daughter is a failed one." More rare gems of motherly wisdom.

"Can't I just lead the army?" Apparently that question was stupid as well because my father start laughing so hard his face turns red and he wheezed for breath.

"No.. !" He gasps for breath as I glare, "Too scrawny!"

"Not scrawny Skec!" my mother reprimands my father, "She is delicate." I examine my self. I don't think I am scrawny. I am fairly muscular, probably the product of running large buckets of water to whatever object the dragons had set on fire. I am not at large as my father-not by a long shot. I have dark hair on the short side due to the majority of it being burned of by a dragon. I have light brown eyes where my mother and sister have dark ones. I suppose I am relatively nice looking. I never got as many compliments as my sister but no one ever called me ugly either-perhaps they were too scared to.

"Fine I'll get married." I give up. Marriage isn't so bad and as a fifteen year old I probably wouldn't have to move out of my house for a few years. "Who is it?

"Geddard." Says my father as my hopes of a decent husband fall apart.


End file.
